


Worth Fighting For

by echoes_of_another_life



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_another_life/pseuds/echoes_of_another_life
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watched unnoticed as Dean stripped off his T Shirt, watched as he used it to wipe the sweat from his brow before throwing it into the dirt at his feet and for a brief moment Sam wanted to pick it up and hold it against his face and inhale Dean’s sweat. Just to feel close again, a reminder of what it was like to share space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Fighting For

Worth Fighting For   


Sam reached out, caught between sleep and awake and felt the coldness of the sheet beside him. He slowly opened his eyes to the realisation that he was once again alone. He threw his legs over the side of the bed, his bare feet sliding against the hardness of the naked floorboards beneath his feet for an instant as he stretched his arms above his head and yawned.

He just didn’t get it.

For such a long time he’d been the first to wake up, the first to get out of bed, take a piss, shower and eat breakfast. 

The first to step outside as the morning sun hit him square in the face; chest and arms bare as he stretched out his fingers, shook out his arms to loosen up the muscle, prepared himself for the morning training session. 

Now whenever he stepped outside, Dean was already there. Arms bare, sweat glistening on his naked chest, evidence that he’d been at it sometime. Been up and about long before Sam had risen. 

It was the beginning of summer and John had borrowed a cabin in the woods for him and his boys. Nothing fancy, just a two bed roomed shack, one room for himself and one for Sam and Dean. Old threadbare rugs scattered here and there to retain a little heat for when the sun disappeared leaving behind an evening chill. 

Sam had loved it at first. No rushing his homework, trying to squeeze it in between weapon training, target practice and the ever scheduled sparring session. Words hastily scribbled in his schoolbooks as he kept glancing up and out the Impala’s window waiting for his father and Dean to return from whatever hunt they were on. Curled up on the back seat of the Impala while his brother disappeared into the trees gun cocked and ready. 

He loved to sit on the porch at night while his dad added the latest kill into his diary. Notes and hand drawn signs on how to kill whatever beast had kept him away from his boys. 

Last month it had been a manticore that had managed to poison Dean with a dart before John could stop it, before Dean could avoid the whiplash of its deadly tail. 

Hence the cabin while Dean recuperated. 

At first John had stayed close by, slept in the room next to his boys at night but as Dean’s strength returned John had hunted further afield. 

These were the moments Sam cherished, time alone with his brother, listening as Dean told him stories of werewolves and other such creatures. Curled up with his brother in bed, legs tangled as they fought for space. Hushed voices late at night as they talked back and forth until one or both fell asleep, legs entwined, arms wrapped around the other. Dean’s breath hot and heavy against the back of Sam’s neck as he moved in closer, wrapped Sam tighter in his arms as sleep overtook them.

But lately Dean had left Sam to sleep alone. 

Sam lay awake each night, feigned sleep and waited until Dean slipped quietly from their bed, grabbed his jeans and crept quietly across the room; floorboards creaking beneath his weight as he opened the bedroom door and let it click quietly behind him.

Sam just didn’t get it. 

He was used to sleeping alongside his brother his long legs intertwined with Dean’s. Chest to back as he spooned in against Dean’s heat, Sam’s breath hitching as Dean’s evened out. Sometimes Sam would wait until Dean was asleep before snaking one hand over his brother’s hip and and snuggling in close. 

But now most nights Sam would find Dean asleep on the floor, occasionally on the back seat of the Impala but more recently, since they moved into the cabin Sam would find Dean asleep on the couch.

And Sam just didn’t get it. 

He didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. At fifteen he knew it was strange to still share a bed with his older brother but it wasn’t like they had much of a choice. John flat out refused to sleep in a different room when he wasn’t on a hunt and most hotel rooms came with only two beds. 

Dean had never minded until now. 

Sam stepped into the bathroom, wet towel and a steamed up mirror the only evidence that Dean had been there. Sam quickly brushed his teeth before taking a quick gulp of cold coffee from the kitchen and stepping outside to find Dean stretching in the sunlight. 

Sam watched unnoticed as Dean stripped off his T Shirt, watched as he used it to wipe the sweat from his brow before throwing it into the dirt at his feet and for a brief moment Sam wanted to pick it up and hold it against his face and inhale Dean’s sweat. Just to feel close again, a reminder of what it was like to share space. 

It had been months since they’d had any physical contact other than sparring and Sam didn’t understand. Unless you count the habit Dean had developed of ruffling Sam’s hair. 

And didn’t that piss Sam off?

John hadn’t ruffled Sam’s hair since Sam’s first day at school and Dean? Well Dean had never. Dean had bathed Sam, tied his shoelaces and packed his lunches. Later he’d patched up Sam’s scraped knees, watched out for him at school and avenged Sam’s first bloody nose. But in all that time he’d never ruffled Sam’s hair. 

Until now. 

It was a constant reminder to Sam that he was nothing but Dean’s kid brother and at fifteen Sam felt anything but a kid. 

“Hey, squirt. You ready for your morning punishment?” Dean grinned. 

Sam huffed the hair out of his eyes and sent Dean a warning look. 

Even though Sam was yet to best Dean in a fight, even though his body lacked the muscular definition of his brothers Sam stood toe to toe with Dean in height and Sam reckoned that besting Dean was not that far away in his future. Especially feeling like he did this morning. 

Sam pulled his T Shirt over his head and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans as he jogged down the porch steps and over to where Dean was waiting. 

“We’ll see who gets punished,” Sam said. 

He took a swing at Dean, his shoulder rotating as his fist shot forward and without hesitating aimed a kick at Dean’s kidney area sending him hurtling across the dirt. Taking full advantage of the moment he swung his fist into Dean’s face, followed through with a left hook a little wider than the first, raw determination seeping into every blow.

“So, what’s with you, huh?” Sam grunted.

There was a brief moment of satisfaction in hearing the thud several feet away, yet it was short-lived. 

Instantly he saw Dean straining to stand, one knee poised in the dirt as he balanced himself and aimed Sam a sideways look. 

“What’s with me,” Dean gasped. “What’s with you, this is supposed to be a sparring session, Sam.”

“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks,” Sam hissed. He slammed his knee forcefully into Dean’s ribs, delivering a rattling blow before Dean had a chance to stand. A satisfied grin appeared as he saw Dean’s body arch with the force of the blow lifting Dean from the floor only to connect with a booted foot which left Dean severely winded.

“Is that all you’ve got, Sam?” Dean grunted, spitting blood into the dirt. 

Sam stepped back, triumphant, shuffling from one foot to the other, he took his eyes off Dean for a mere second to inspect the damage to his hand. Hearing a low growl, he turned his head just in time to catch the look of menace aimed directly at him as, unbelievably, Dean tried to gain his feet. 

 

He saw the punch coming, but it was already too late. It hurtled towards him; he met the blow with a punch of his own at the same time the other was moving in.

The vibrations shot up his arm and down his spine. He felt a bone crushing pain and wondered if his knuckles had broke, seconds before another blow struck his solar plexus.

Sam folded like he'd been sliced through with a dagger. He tried to raise his arms, but the force of the blow disorientated him, causing him to fall back, his head bounced off the dirt as Dean followed him down. 

Sam heaved, pushed upwards and tried to push Dean off of him as Dean lifted up and rolled away, giving Sam time to gain his breath. But Sam was ready for anything Dean could throw at him, ready and pissed, pissed at Dean for all the weeks of separateness for all the weeks of waking up alone, for all the weeks of turning over and finding nothing but coldness for comfort. 

He rolled over on top of Dean, grabbed both of Dean’s arms and pinned them above his head. 

“Why?” Sam panted. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean answered. 

“Like Hell,” Sam replied. He pushed himself to his knees, legs straddling Dean’s hips and he continued to push his advantage. He leaned forward, lifted his arm ready to swing it forward as Dean lifted upward ready to push Sam off and suddenly everything stopped. 

Dean grunted, heaved upwards against Sam in an attempt to throw Sam off, he grabbed Sam’s shoulders for balance and pitched forward, his shoulder slamming into Sam’s, Sam knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it was going to hurt like hell later. But that was later right now he was more concerned with the fact that he was sprawled across Dean’s chest, his hips pressed hard to Dean’s and that Dean was hard.

In fact he was hard as hell and looking up at Sam as if he’d just revealed each and every one of the secrets Dean had been so carefully concealing.

“Fuck, Sam. I’m sorry,” Dean gasped. 

Sam paused, caught off guard for just a second. He’d expected Dean to come up swinging and instead he looked like he’d completely surrendered. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dean breathed. “It’s all my fault. I tried Sam but you just kept on pushing.”

“Dean…”

Sam was still poised to swing forward and realised he had a choice, he could swing at Dean still angry at being left alone, separate from Dean, he could walk away and carry on as they had been the past few weeks… alone. 

Sam lowered his arm, braced both his forearms against Dean’s chest, felt muscle tense beneath his touch and slid his palms upwards until his fingers felt the heat of bare skin and raised his head to meet smouldering green eyes. 

“Sam what?” 

Sam wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, lowered his head and took Dean’s bottom lip between his teeth, sucked it into the warmth of his mouth. 

“It’s okay, Dean,” Sam whispered. 

“Sam, no.” Dean twisted his head, he was older than Sam, heavier, he could end this. 

He should end this. 

“I don’t want to be without you, Dean” Sam begged. “I don’t want to be alone. It’s been so hard these past weeks,” Sam lowered his head, twisted to follow Dean’s movement, “without you.”

“Be sure, Sam,” Dean warned. 

“Dean I want…”

Sam felt Dean’s hand settle on the small of his back, pressing him down, fitting their bodies closer together as Dean cupped the back of Sam’s head. 

“I want…”

Sam shifted his hips and groaned as Deans’ fingers slid through his hair, along the nape of his neck, Dean’s other hand stroked and kneaded the small of Sam’s back and Dean lifted and rocked their hips together.

Sam’s tongue traced the line between Dean’s lips coaxing them apart ready for his first real kiss. 

“You,” Sam breathed as he slid his tongue into the warmth of Dean’s mouth to explore, taste, plunging and retreating as Dean let Sam take the lead, let Sam tease. Sam bit down on the sensitive area at the corner of Dean’s mouth, thrust his hips hard against Dean’s cock as he reached down and released the button on Dean’s jeans and the instant he did the kiss exploded. 

Sam felt the hand at the small of his back push down hard, hard enough to cause pain and Sam almost gave up the upper hand, almost but this was his first kiss, his first time at, well everything and he wanted to explore. He held back, remained straddled across Dean’s hips and refused to relinquish his advantage as Dean crushed him hard against his chest, drew Sam’s tongue into his mouth and stroked it with his own. 

Not until Sam felt Dean’s hand slide lower, curve around to cup Sam’s ass, pulling him tight against Dean’s hardened cock. Dean’s tongue still thrusting into Sam’s mouth did he relent and give in to Dean’s experience. Sam slid his leg down between Dean’s parted thighs as Dean’s arm tightened around him and his mouth became more demanding. 

Without taking his mouth from Dean’s, Sam slid one hand down between their bodies, his fingers sliding down Dean’s ribs and felt soft hair beneath his fingers, further down past Dean’s already open buttoned jeans. His fingers curled slowly around Dean’s length as Dean bucked his hips upwards, lifted into Sam’s touch and groaned.

Sam tasted, relished the sound of Dean’s pleasure, savoured it before dragging his mouth free and sliding his tongue along the column of Dean’s throat. He nipped at Dean’s exposed skin, bit and sucked his way along Dean’s collarbone trailing a path to Dean’s nipple, circled it with his tongue as Dean grunted beneath him. Tangled his fingers in Sam’s hair and held him there while Sam flicked the erect nub with his tongue, grazing his teeth back and forth over the sensitive peak. 

“Dean is this okay,” Sam breathed.

“Sammy,” Dean groaned.

Sam paused, dipped his tongue into Dean’s navel and rubbed his cheek against soft hair, his hand skimming lower to stroke the sensitive skin of Dean’s inner thigh, up along his perineum, his teeth nibbling the skin above the waistband of Dean’s jeans. He glanced up to see Dean’s neck arch, his eyes close, a look of pleasure that warred with frustration on his face and he eased Dean’s jeans slowly down over Dean’s trim hips, released Dean’s erection and watched the muscles in Dean’s neck contract as Dean swallowed and then moaned loudly. 

“Sam, enough…”

“Dean please, let me.” Sam breathed.

Sam lowered his head, stroked his tongue along Dean’s cock, licking and teasing around the ridge and over the head before finally taking Dean deeply into his mouth and sucking greedily. His free hand caressed the underside of Dean’s erection as he worked his mouth slowly up and down Dean’s length. Sam gripped the base of Dean’s cock as his mouth increased the pace tasting pre come as Dean’s cock twitched against the roof of Sam’s mouth, once, twice before Sam felt Dean thrust his hips up forcibly and heard Dean groan deep in his throat as Sam took Dean deeper, sucked harder and tasted the sweetness of Dean’s release.

If Sam’s jeans were uncomfortable before they were damn well painful now as Sam lifted himself up, slowly inched his way up Dean’s bare chest, smiled at the way it rose and fell with his laboured breathing. He placed his hands both side of Dean’s head and lowered his own until his mouth was mere inches from Dean’s. He kissed him once gently before taking his weight on his forearms once more, looked Dean in the eye and breathed, 

“Your turn.”


End file.
